I Used To
by Lady Twi
Summary: Remembering what used to be is hard enough, but to have the oppertunity to have what has been lost is even harder. Can these remaining Marauders heal what has been destroyed, or will only their memories of what used to be all that is left?


I used to know him.

I used to know the feel of him. I used to know the feel of his skin beneath my fingertips. I used to know the feel of his strands of black hair lying gently against my cheek. I used to know the feel of his warm breath against my neck.

Not anymore.

I used to be able to pick his voice from within the loud murmuring of the crowds of students. I used to be able to pick out his form from across the grounds of Hogwarts. I used to be able to pick up his smell, hours old, among the smell of the various delicacies the Hogwarts House Elves cooked up especially for the staff and students, in the kitchens. I used to be able to pick up even the softest of his sighs when he, once again, had been forced to be caged into a small room for study.

But, I lost that.

I used to be what he termed as the best bloodhound there ever lived. He would swear that no one else would be able to find him as well as I could. No one else would be able to pick up his scent, no matter how old it was. And it wasn't only because of my Gift, but because of how I was able to word any question to any student or staff member that meant they gave up information willingly, even though I was a recognised Marauder.

That's the past now.

I used to have a lover who began our relationship by jumping me in the middle of The Great Hall, shoved a packet of dairy chocolate into my mouth and declared that he had never had a friend like me, amidst the angry cries of Prongs. He had wrapped his arms around me, given me a squeeze, and had ignored every single one of Prongs' angry words, much to Prongs' disgust. I had almost expected him to kiss me.

I used to know what he meant when he said he loved me. In the beginning, it had had the same meaning as what he declared to Prongs: that we were sharing the love of friendship. But upon his public declaration, he had never done anything by halves, I watched him, but always out of the corner of his eye. I hadn't known that what was between us had grown from being the love of two friends, to the love of two creatures who had found the other half of their soul.

You never knew when it concerned him.

I used to picture the first time he admitted to me that he wanted to be in a relationship with me. The way his eyes had been half closed as he constantly kept wetting his lips as if it would help him get the words out. How his skin had been so smooth, as half-way through his attempt to tell me, he had grabbed my right hand and had raised it to his cheek. He had shaved that day.

I found out later that the only reason he had managed to find such courage was because Prongs had grabbed him and told him to.

I used to be able to list and explain the background between each and every scar and blemish he had on his body. I could pick out the ones that were caused because of accidents in Quidditch, the ones because of pranks and the ones he had been given because of the First War. I could identify them all.

Until I was banished from the United Kingdom and he was thrown into Azkaban.

I used to have it all, but then I lost everything when that Fatal Night occurred. I no longer had Prongs, who I considered a Brother, and Whisper, who I felt was like a Baby Sister. And my Lover, my Partner, my Soul Mate, was dragged from me and forced to hang on to a half existence in one of the worst Wizarding prisons.

And through it all, I doubted my love for him and thought that he could kill two of our Pack. I went back on every promise, on every shared moment, on every treasured 'I could' to 'I used to' when I allowed myself to accept the fact that maybe he had followed the path of his own family in a spur of a moment, in a few seconds of bad judgement.

I argued with myself, blamed his weak deposition of not thinking at the worse possible moment on myself and cursed the fact that I hadn't been there when he had been so rash. I couldn't see beyond that Fateful Night, I couldn't make those old memories of him sparkle and be magical anymore and so I drifted into a Lone Wolf without a Mate.


End file.
